In The Days Of Auld Lang Syne: Bold As Love
by JayneRulis
Summary: Edward spins the tunes for a big New Years Eve costume party. But what happens when a young Maid turns his world on end? Story is rated M for language. AH, OOC. Part of the larger series *In the Days of Auld Lang Syne*.
1. Red Bar & Pink Roses

A/N: Much love to the peeps at Ravelry & Unicorn Unlimited, Ravelry Fan Fiction, Saturday night chat group, I bow down to Betafishy, thanks for letting me bother you endlessly and Knittingfynatic... and your loving red pen. I heart you all hard.

This story is part of **In the** **Days of Auld Lang Syne**, a larger, multiple-author universe with dovetailing but independent storylines.

This story is named after Jimi Hendrix's song Bold as Love. This song discusses many colors: "In shiny metallic purple armor; fiery green gown sneers at the grassy ground." Because of Hendrix' inability to read music, he would often describe emotions (and music) in colors rather than more descriptive words. Jimi was a very emotional and colorful person, and in this song he really brought out his emotions in a wild imagery that at first glance can be easily misinterpreted. So Each of the Chapters will have have colors that deal with the psychological properties of that chapter.

This story is rated M for language only.

All Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer... I own nothing.

Enjoy!

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**1 Red Bar & Pink Roses**

**Red - **Positive: Physical courage, strength, warmth, energy, basic survival, 'fight or flight', stimulation, masculinity, excitement.

**Pink **- Negative: Inhibition, emotional claustrophobia, emasculation, physical weakness.

**Edward POV**

Katy Perry stood on a black stage in a beautiful skin-tight black dress, all lights on her, and a gold envelope-- and the answer to everything-- in her hands.

"And the Grammy goes to..." she started, pulling the envelope apart; she opened her mouth to announce the winner, and suddenly, as I sat in the audience with an uncomfortable tuxedo cutting off my circulation, all I could hear was the loud ring of a cell phone. Who the fuck left their ringer on at the Grammys?!

I turned around to stare daggers at Nick Jonas, but he shrugged and mouthed, "Not me, man!" while the ringing continued unabated.

"WILL YOU TURN OFF THAT FUCKING PHONE SO I CAN GET MY GRAMMY?!" I roared, and all eyes turned to me and silence descended immediately over the Shrine Auditorium except for that damn ringing…

"Fuck," I groaned as I beat the alarm clock's snooze button. I forced one bleary eye open, staring at the bright red figures on my alarm clock, and idly wondered why I couldn't read them. Was it due to the already-bright sun shining in my bedroom window? No. Why couldn't I—oh, yeah. My hand blindly groped about on my nightstand for my Buddy Holly-style glasses, sifting through the detritus of scribbled playlists, back issues of Rolling Stone, and my iPhone. I put them on, making reading the time on the clock face and the quest for my TV remote much easier.

I rolled over and turned the TV on. It was 10am—well, that explained why the sun was so fucking bright-- and the news reporter was prattling on about a fire or a lynch mob or something else equally unimportant to me. It was finally my weekend, and while any other day I would have heaved the alarm clock at the wall, I needed to get up -- even though it was my weekend, I had work to do. I sat up cross-legged in the middle of my bed, rubbing my face, and ran my hands through my hair. It was going to be a long day today, so thank God it was Boys' Night tonight.

Boys' Night was something my best friends and I started just after we'd graduated college. Everyone was so hard at work trying to be 'real grownups' that my friend and roommate Emmett McCarty—yes, that Emmett McCarty…the man, the myth, the legend-- owner of Ursa Major, the place for Seattle's greatest sports celebrities to work out, decided that no matter what else we had going that week, every Thursday night, we would hit up a local bar for what Em proclaimed the "Triple B": babes, beer, and bullshit. We ended up choosing a dive bar called Red's that was just off-campus, and near to the house. Emmett, my other roommate, grad student and psych-lab drone Jasper Whitlock, and myself could walk to this bar, hit the hole-in-the-wall diner called Howl at the Moon a block away, and stumble home afterwards.

The bar is owned by these three Russian women who are attractive in a JUGGS-centerfold kind of way, more Emmett's cup of tea than mine...but it was the first place that picked me up as a DJ, and

they are nice, and they give us free beer. Mostly because they are flirting, and because Emmett knows how to bring in a crowd.

I figured into the whole mix because I was a DJ at KNDD. The station's special-events manager had rather bluntly informed me that he'd hired me to "bring the pussy in". Classy, I know. Listen, if it brought in the cash, and it let me stay close to the music, I was all for it.

Ten-fifteen now. I needed to get this show on the road. I flipped off the bedding, and shuffled into the bathroom. Popping in my second contact, I caught the perky reporter's last words just before I turned on the shower: "Red Bar owner Tanya Denali was too distraught over the burning of her bar to speak to the media. Back to you, Dave."

My breath caught in my throat. "Excuse me?" I said to the flat-panel TV that hung from my wall, my toothbrush limp and forgotten at my side. I couldn't believe it. The images that flashed across the screen were horrifying. There between Stacey's Flower Shop and the vintage clothing shop "Play it Again" was a blackened hole, smoldering with wisps of white and gray smoke climbing the air. The screen flashed orange as the live feed cut to playback of the bar completely engulfed in blaze. I visibly flinched at the sight of it all. It couldn't be true! This was our bar! Our sanctuary. Our home away from home. I threw my shorts back on and raced down to the TV room, yelling for my erstwhile brothers to wake up.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MAN!" I heard Emmett roar as I passed his room, pounding on the door.

"DOWNSTAIRS, NOW!" I bellowed and started to run again, this time to Jasper's part of the house. He met me in the hallway—he'd been in his office.

"What is going on?! Why're you hollerin' like someone lit your ass on fire?" Jasper followed me down the stairs, only to be followed by the sound of rolling thunder; Emmett made sure to accentuate his dismount down the stairs by jumping off the last step and making the entire 5-bedroom house shake to its foundations.

"Jeeeze, Em, leave the house upright, would you?!" I glared at him. It was MY house he was trying to destroy with his Bruce Banner imitation-- I just let him live here.

"Fuck that. This better be fucking good, Mase...I was having a dream about Heidi Klum and German chocolate cake...mmm, Klum and cake." Shit, he used my middle name... never good. Woke the sleeping bear on this one, too bad. This was important.

"Shut it. Look," I said, flipping on the TV. Silence for a few seconds—then a very high-pitched shriek, like that of a girl who'd seen a rat scurry out of her Vuitton handbag, suddenly came out of Emmett's mouth. Emmett had definitely seen the breaking news.

"Oh. My." Jasper ran a hand though his curly hair. I noticed he was still fully dressed in yesterday's clothing; he'd slept in it -- cowboy boots (hey, you could take the man out of Texas…), dark jeans, rumpled white button-down, pinstripe vest, and a loosened tie. I was sure he'd been working on his master's thesis. It was getting down to the wire for him.

"Come on...we should go down and see if they need anything," I said somberly, still trying to hold in my laughter at Emmett's grand-mal hissy, and ran up to my bedroom to change clothes, back in jeans, tee and a hooded sweatshirt within five minutes. Pausing in front of the bathroom mirror, I ran a hand through my dirty hair; a shower was going to have to wait. As the three of us made it out to my car, I quickly grabbed a black knit cap and pulled it over the rat's nest quickly growing out of my head.

~*~

The bar was still smoldering when we pulled up, the huge amount of white smoke just obscuring the skyline. I noticed Tanya's two sisters and their cousins sitting at the Starbuck's across the street while Tanya sobbed and flailed amidst the fleet of firefighters and policemen.

Before I could put the car in park Emmett flew out of the Volvo, leaving the door swinging in the damp Seattle air. "EMMETT, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" I yelled after him. He was heading straight for the blackened wreckage, strong-arming his way past some firefighters who were nowhere near strong enough to get him back behind the tape in his current state of mind, and raced up to the edge of the destroyed building. It was a smoking husk, and all the remaining debris had been broken down into a heap.

"Sir!? Sir?" I could hear some poor sap of a firefighter apparently sent to control the giant of a man. Good luck, I thought blackly, and got ready to call a lawyer to bail Emmett's ass out, since he was about to assault an officer of the law. But then I saw Jasper, quickly walking up past the firefighters, next to Emmett. I could see Emmett's hulking form slowly relaxing as Jasper played mediator. Hmmm. I decided that maybe the lawyer could wait, and started to walk up behind the two men and the Incredible Hulk.

Emmett bent down and picked up a charcoal ball; his massive fingers wiped away the soot, showing that it was actually the cue ball from the billiards table on which I myself had lost at least $1,000 over the span of a year playing against my roommates. Jasper was a regular pool shark and after Emmett lost almost $500 to the head-shrinker-in-training, he vowed to never play him again.

"Come on big man. Let's go back to the sidewalk, before we all get arrested," Jasper said, pulling on Emmett's massive arm. Emmett said nothing, just walked absently, looking completely crushed, holding the cue ball and letting Jasper lead him back to the car, rubbing his back and easing him down. It was exactly what Emmett needed. I've never really seen him so broken up. I understood on some level. I mean, we had been coming to the Red Bar since before we'd been legally able to drink. There were a lot of memories in that pile of ash for me, too.

A wailing broke me from my memories of the bar. My eyes searched out the source of the cries. I should have known who it was when I saw that shock of strawberry blond hair. This was not going to be a good day. Tanya was pulling out all the stops. Dressed in a pair of those stupid Ugg boots, soot smeared jeans that were at least a size too small, and a large bubble jacket that came to midthigh, she was fake crying to a police officer. The officer was buying it hook, line and sinker, the poor sap. Now, not to put down the officer's intelligence, but Tanya was a pro at conning men. So whatever it was she was telling the officer, was a half truth, because Tanya was well aware that even the most convoluted stories often have a grain of truth in them. Time was Tanya's downfall in getting men to do her bidding. The longer a man stayed with her, the quicker they were able to pick up on being swindled.

How did I know? Because I'd known Tanya for as long as I had, I had been there and back. I knew her game, and could call it like a Cubs announcer.

She started to cry. The officer would console her, which he did. She would then start to giggle, and flirt with the officer. He would blush and smile, which he did. She would then touch him gently on the upper arm. His smile would just get bigger, because why would a woman of Tanya's caliber be interested in him for? Yep-- there went the smile. She would step closer and pull her phone out, and ask the poor man for his phone number... there was the phone. Hook, line, and sinker.

Jasper walked up as I watched as the officer punched his phone number into Tanya's cell phone. "Tanya?"

"Yep, she's caught another fly," I said nodding to the officer that was now holding Tanya's hand. "Sucker," Jasper snorted. "Come on, bro, let's go get something to eat. Maybe some food'll soothe the savage beast in your backseat."

The three of us went to a local greasy spoon called Howl at the Moon, owned by some of the people from La Push, the Indian reservation not too far from Seattle. The Moon, as locals called it, was about a block away from the bar, and open 24 hours. We'd been coming here to eat off the hangovers for years, so they were used to our goofball antics. Today was different, though, due to the fact that we were in mourning. Emmett walked in first holding the cue ball, and caressing it like Lennie with his bunny named George. Jasper was behind him, pushing him on and talking to him kindly, and I brought up the rear. Jasper forced Emmett into the bathroom to clean himself up, since his hands and face were covered in soot and ash.

Taking a seat in our usual booth, I waited for Frasier Crane and his patient to come out of the bathroom. They both came back quickly and sat down. Emmett sat and rocked the cue ball occasionally, repeating the words "happy place". Jasper rolled his eyes, and I just shook my head. Sally, the owner, finished winding her graying jet-black hair into a bun and walked over to us, not even bothering to hand out menus. "The usual, boys?" she asked, her dark eyes twinkling, and a kind smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. She reminded me of Rosie O'Donnell or Kathy Bates. A pleasant face, but commanding in a 'you don't want to mess with me' way.

"Yes, please," and "Yes, ma'am," Jasper and I chorused.

"Can I have a corndog?" My head whipped around so fast, I was sure I had given myself whiplash. Did Emmett "Carbs Are Satan" McCarty just ask for a corndog?

"Yeah, honey. Bad day?" Sally asked with a sympathetic smile, writing down the order.

Emmett nodded his head, his lip pouting in childlike assent, as if someone had just stomped on his puppy. "The Red Bar caught fire down the way."  
"So that's what all the commotion was," Sally said knowingly, and left us to get our drinks. I just sat there and watched Emmett pet the cue ball.

"So, now what?" Jasper asked. We both just sat there, staring at Emmett and the cue ball.

"Em, stop playing with your balls," I reprimanded him, and a loud thunderous laugh erupted out of him. I gave Jasper a small smirk. I knew that would have broken him out of it. It was rude, and totally something a 12 year old would have said…which is probably why Em found it so funny.

Sally returned with our orders, and all thoughts turned to consuming our food. We seemed to be a touch better; it had felt like we lost a bit of our family history with the bar destroyed. But we were starting to pull ourselves out of it.

Emmett muttered a monosyllabic word, and I just had to laugh.

"Only you could make 'corndog' one syllable," I muttered, shaking my head in amusement. He gave me a huge grin and took another bite of the dog. My phone rang; setting my fork down, I dug it out of my jacket pocket. It was Eric Yorkie, the special-events manager at KNDD.

"Hello, Eric," I greeted him, hoping he couldn't hear me chewing.

"Edward, hi. I have a bit of a favor to ask." Yorkie was the aforementioned "You're here to bring the pussy in, Cullen" guy. Yorkie never had favors, and he never asked. He told you what you were doing, and when, and if you didn't like it, there were several lesser DJs that would leap at the chance to take over your office. "There is a pub down on Broadway called the Unicorn—"

"Wha – Is it a gay club?" I blurted out, cringing at my lack of a mental filter.

"No. It was owned by an older Scottish guy with a penchant for heraldry. Well, he sold out, and the new owner is keeping the name, but revamping the insides, wants to give the club a shiny new image—wait, I don't know why I'm explaining this to you. Point is, the owner has a gig for this New Year's. Big, BIG Deal, and I want you to DJ it."

To tell the truth, it actually sounded good. I needed something to keep me busy on New Year's. No date, no bar... yeah, I was definitely gonna need something that would take my mind off my own life, or the lack thereof.

"So what's the gig?"  
"The owner's apparently doing a New Year's Eve costume party—I thought that it would rock if the fairy-tale New Year's party had THE END supplying the tunes. It's gimmicky and a total sellout, so needless to say, the higher-ups loved it. Now I need one of my best DJ's to bring in the pussy, and keep one of our newest and biggest buyers of airtime happy."

Ahh the truth comes out. The new owner had bought a ton of commercial airtime, so of course the station would bend over backwards for him. Short of changing the name of the station, if it brought us money, we would whore ourselves out for however much you wanted to give us.

"Fine, what's the address. I'll pop over today and see what he's looking for, and what I need to bring for the gig." A few moments later and I had the address.

"New gig?" Emmett asked, honestly interested. He was gonna be just fine if the Party-Scammer radar had clicked on already.

"Yeah," I started. "This dude bought some pub called the Unicorn, and they're having a big New Year's party and the station wants me to DJ it," I explained and slapped his hand away from my curly fries.

"Is it a gay club?" Emmett asked, grabbing a handful anyways and cramming them into his mouth. " 'Cause, dude, you're way too pretty to walk into a gay club alone. 'The Unicorn' sounds kinda girly. At least the Red Bar sounded manly…" His lip quivered dangerously.

"This from a man whose gym is named after a constellation which happens to be a bear? Oh, no, there's no gay symbolism there," Jasper said dryly, popping a fry into his mouth.

"Shut it. Ursa Major is an awesome name for my gym. It's a fucking bear...how much powerful and epic and manly could you get?"

"Mountain lions are kinda powerful," I said, but Emmett didn't hear it. He was already all up in Jasper's grill...which was probably what Jasper had intended in the first place. Cunning little fucker—getting Em pissed off solely to redirect him from getting sad again.

"Em, tell me, do you have a lot of big, burly guys showing up at the Ursa?" I started. Jasper made a strangled choking noise and leaned over his plate, carefully keeping his eyes from mine. Oh yeah, he knew where I was going with this.

"Yeah. It's a gym, dude. Why?" Emmett hunkered back down to his basket of fries. Jasper was quietly dying in the corner of the booth, wiping his streaming eyes on his sleeve. I could have sworn he was biting his hand so hard he was going to draw blood.

"Just wondering." I looked around and realized we were basically done. I stood and grabbed the check and walked up to the cashier so I could laugh in peace.

~*~

We'd just gotten back on the road when Emmett asked where we were going.

"The gig is on short notice, so I need to stop by and check out the space, see what gear I'm gonna need." The iPhone chirped, and its generic female robot voice let me know I was nearing the bar. We pulled up next to a large whitewashed-brick building. A hanging wooden sign bedecked with a unicorn-emblazoned heraldic shield pointed the way to the outsized wooden doors, so heavy they looked like they'd been shipped from Ye Olde Medieval Potterie Barne.

"This it?" Jasper asked as he un-clicked his seatbelt.

"Yeah. Come on." I got out of the car and was about to shut the door when Emmett whined, "Do I have to come in?"

"Yeah, you do. I can't leave you alone in the Volvo now, can I? Or did you forget the Cheetos incident that led to you paying to replace the glass in that very window you are sitting next to?"

"Oh yeah," he said, grinning as the memory dawned in his head, his voice full of fond reminiscence. "That was epic good times, dude. Totally worth the cash."

"Yeah, whatever, asshat...come on," I muttered, shoving him ahead of me so I could shut the car door. We walked down a lit corridor, walls painted with a large-black-and-white version of the shield I'd seen on the hanging sign. No mistaking the snooty-ass attitude of the proprietor; why not just tack up a sign that said "NO COMMONERS ALLOWED"?

We walked into to the bar and almost ran face first into a wall of man. He was actually taller than Emmett, who was burly at 6'4"; this guy was fucking huge. Poor Jazz—he must've been feeling positively midget-sized…I had two inches on him and I know I did. I looked up—way, way up—to see a boyish-looking Native American kid wearing the standard bar-back's apron. His skin was a coppery tan, and his eyes were practically as black as his long hair.

"Can I help you?" His huge hands twisted his hair back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck.

"Um. Yeah. I. Um…" I stammered, caught off-guard. "I'm Edward, and I'm here to see the manager. I'm the DJ from KNDD; I got hired for the New Year's party?" The large man-boy looked from me to my entourage, raising his eyebrows. "And they're with me." He shrugged, clearly thinking I was a blithering idiot, and yelled, "ROSE! Your one o'clock appointment's here!"

"Send them to my office, Jacob!" A female voice rang out from behind the kid. The three of us shuffled past him, giving him a wide berth, and walked down the hall. A woman with long blond hair pulled up into a ponytail sat behind a battered lawyer's desk, Bluetooth headset blinking away and BlackBerry in hand. "Good, you found us," she said by way of greeting, without looking up from her computer screen.

"Yeah, your directions were really good." I quickly looked over to my cohorts. Jasper's feet were in the office, but the rest of him was plastered around the door frame, squinting out at some tiny chick behind the bar, his face sporting that calculating Puppet-Master look he got whenever he'd found someone who'd fit into his thesis research. Emmett was just standing there, and this unnerved me. Because I'm not blind-- the woman wasn't my type, but she was smokin' hot in that frigid country-club way, and in the face of a pretty woman, Emmett had this bizarre mojo that would click on, and women would melt... but—nothing. Not a damn thing. Worrisome. I quickly went back to the blond.

"I'm Rosalie Hale." Putting her BlackBerry down as if it pained her to do so, she flicked her eyes over me, sizing me up (and obviously finding me wanting), and shook my hand, quickly suppressing the look of distaste that flitted across her face.

"I'm Edward Cullen, the DJ from KNDD," I began, repeating my spiel to Jacob the human Colossus, "and these are my friends Emmett McCarty, and Jasper Whitlock." She gave Emmett a curt smile, quickly handing me a mock-medieval flyer with details about the New Year's party.

"Mr. Cullen?"

"Yes?" I replied, half-listening, as I turned to scope out the club, mentally calculating my gear setup.

"How long do you need to set up your gear?"

"That depends on what I need. Can I see where I'll be staged?"

"Yes, follow me." Standing, she brushed past an open-mouthed Emmett, spun on her heel and waved an airy hand carelessly toward a small stage in the corner. Hmmm….dedicated outlets for digital 'tables, new Harmon-Kordon speakers installed, even a tricked-out MacBook Pro for on-the-fly recording and editing. I was impressed, with a side of envious. Rosalie "Ice Queen" Hale knew her stuff.

"Nice. This should work well. I should be able to set up and do a sound check in two hours, max," I finally said, realizing that she'd been tapping her toe impatiently, obviously eager to get the smell of lowly peon out of her club.

"It should work well. I paid enough for it," she said, giving me a small, tight smile. "Wrapping things up, Mr. Cullen—should we say five o'clock?"

I chuckled dryly, acknowledging her unstated desire to just get us out of Queen Rosalie's Palace, and slowly made it back to the door. "Yeah, sounds great."

"Wonderful. Jake will see you out. Don't forget to wear a costume," she added over her shoulder, already halfway back to her office, presumably to arrange the hostile takeover of a third-world country or something.  
"A what?" That last admonition had just sunk in; I jogged to catch up with her to verify what I hoped I hadn't heard.

"A costume. It's a fairy tale-themed costume party. No costume, no admittance." She tapped a neatly manicured nail to a line on the flyer. Fuck. Surprising me, Emmett quickly grabbed the flyer out of my hand. "You've done a lot with this place, Miss Hale," he said admiringly, speaking for the first time. What the hell? I looked over at Jasper, seeing the mirror image of my confusion reflected on his face. What was Emmett's game?

"Yes, I have," she said, looking slightly less impatient to be rid of him than she had been with me. Of course, that was probably because Emmett was delivering quite the little ego massage, and I hadn't.

"I've met a client or two here...Totally blew out this wall and that wall... nice. Opened it right up, lightened the wood trim. The sports memorabilia is gone...that's a shame," he finished, shaking his head in faux-chagrin.  
"No, it's not. It's part of the sports pub on the second floor." Rosalie's face was smug as she pointed a slender finger toward the ceiling. Looking up, I realized the second story wasn't directly above, but around us; Rosalie had simply removed the second-story floor above the club during the reno, while preserving the rest of the original pub's bones.

"Very nice. If you'd like, I could probably get those jerseys I mentioned signed for you," Emmett offered.

"I might take you up on that." She turned a calculating look on Em—one that would've withered the balls of anyone else—before asking, "Obviously you're expecting something in return?"

Emmett shrugged modestly. "Is it all right if my friend and I tag along with Edward to your shindig? I just can't help but want to be a part of something that you put so much hard work into."

"Just come in costume," she said with a sly smirk. Damn, Emmett may have met his match in this one…

"Sure thing, sweetheart," he replied, nodding his head and flashing her the Do-Me Dimples, and I could have sworn I saw a blaze of angry fire race through her blue eyes, but it was quickly extinguished, replaced by the briskly impersonal smugness that seemed to be her default expression.

"Gentlemen, I have to finish up here and start up for the night. Jake!" she yelled, and the huge bar-back appeared out of nowhere, so silently I jumped a little. "If you would, please escort Mr. Cullen and his two acquaintances out so we can prep the house."

"Sure, sure." He clapped us on the back so hard even Emmett stumbled a little, directing us toward the door. "So, you all are coming to the party?"

"Yep," I said, straightening my beanie as we hit the cool December air.

"Cool. I'm Jacob, by the way," he said, offering up his massive paw to shake, "I work the door and Alice is training me to tend bar."

"Jasper Whitlock."

"Emmett McCarty."

"Edward Cullen, I work for KNDD."

"Shit! I listen to you all the time. Awesome!" He started to laugh. "Don't have access to anything Zeppelin, do you?"

"Ah." I chuckled. "No, I wish."

"Damn! Plant needs to man up and do another tour with Page."

"Yeah, I think the country thing has him seduced right now though..."

"Stupid. Anyway, I gotta get back before Blondie in there starts throwing dishes at my head. Nice meeting you three, see you on New Years Eve!"

The three of us were left standing outside in the cold December air. Emmett had a shit-eating grin on his face, Jasper was off in his own mind, frantically rearranging his human lab rats, and I was losing a testicle in the winter chill.

"Come on, pizza night at the Cullen hacienda," I chimed, trying to get us all back to the Volvo quickly, "And someone needs a beat down in Rock Band."


	2. Black Garment Bags & Grey Conversation

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Thank you to **knittingfynatic**, **Betafishy for dealing with my horrific grammar and spelling errors. I heart your big red pen, and 30pt commas.**

To: **Grendelsmother, MzEllq, feistyyoungbeden** and all the peeps on **Ravelry's Unicorns Unlimited**. I heart you hard... Thanks for listening to me, dealing with me, and loving the story. Hope I don't disappoint.

You know the drill, I don't own anything in the Twilight Universe except for a spot on the crazy train to fanville. Stops in Chicago, Phoenix, and Forks.

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**2 Black Garment Bags & Grey Conversations**

**BLACK.  
**Positive: Sophistication, glamour, security, emotional safety, efficiency, substance.

**GREY**  
Negative: Lack of confidence, dampness, depression, hibernation, lack of energy.

The stage was dark; colored lights were pointed out and swinging around, shining bright blue, green, and pink all over the audience. Their hands were in the air waving along with the beat. Finishing my set, I waved, took my bow, and walked off the stage, when suddenly I was hit hard by something that felt like a sandbag and I collapsed onto the floor. I gasped for air as I took in the sight of a large Ziploc bag, covered in horribly cryptic black Sharpie handwriting and full of chocolate chip cookies that felt as if they were made of lead, crushing my chest. I fought to get the bag off me, only to feel it suffocating me, weighing me down further. I started to freak out and clawed and bit my way out only to wake up on my bedroom floor, covered in feathers. God fucking damn it....

Clearing away my sleepy haze, I pulled myself off the floor and gathered up the chunks of my now-destroyed pillow and threw them into the large trashcan in my bathroom.

I ran my hand through the sweaty matted mop that was my hair, picking out a random white down feather, and dragged myself into the bathroom. I felt like ass, but everything would be so much better with a shower. I had so much to do today and the total exhaustion caused by that fucked-up dream was not going to help.

I showered quickly and got dressed in black pants, a gray tee-shirt, and a black-and-white flannel shirt that I left unbuttoned. I shook the remaining water out of my hair and threw on my shoes, and looked to the clock next to my bed. I was due to meet Jasper in an hour and a half, so I sat loaded up iTunes on my MacBook and messed around awhile. I ended up syncing two newly purchased albums onto my iPod before it was time to leave.

That always happened when I shopped, online or in the real world: I'd go in just to look around and end up walking out with half the store. I quickly shut down the computer, walked down to the kitchen, and started the coffee maker. Emmett was sitting there eating a serving bowl full of Cap'n Crunch cereal. I hated the smell of that foul cereal and made a face at him.

"So, Mr. McCarty, ready for our little adventure tonight?" I asked, fishing a banana off the counter, and noticed Emmett's complete blank look. "The Unicorn?"

He scowled at me. "Fucking pussy bar," he said with a mouth full of bright yellow cereal.

"Yes, but the odds are in your favor," I replied, running a hand through my hair. How in the world could this man turn on all the charm in the world and secure his own invite to one of the prime parties in Seattle one minute, but look at it like the plague in the next?

"Only tail going to be there are the princess bitches who demand a pink drink and a shit load of shopping sprees."  
"Right up your ally, isn't it?" I quipped in return.

His look in response said it all. He fell silent and I watched a bit as his internal monologue clicked along. I moved over, chucked the banana peel into the garbage, and washed my and Jasper's mugs, knowing he would be home from work soon. Hopefully I could get the three of us out to the costume shop today to pick out costumes. The pickings were going to be slim since our invite was sweet-talked only two days ago.

"Tired of that shit, Eddie. I'm done with empty-headed chicks throwing themselves at me, only wanting me 'cause I bring in major bank."

"Or for your ass."

"Or for my exceptionally fine ass. I just can't take it anymore."

"So... you're not gonna hook up tonight?"

"Fuck, I don't even know if I want to go."

"Come on, you _promised_ Rose you would be there. It's gonna be kinda heavy on the girls."

"Fuck." His tone dripped with total exasperation. "Fine. Whatever."

"Great. So, will you come with us?"

"What?"

"Jasper, me, you, costume shop?"

_"Fuck."_ The memory of Rose calling after him, telling him it was a costume party, had apparently just resurfaced.

"Come on, Rose said that you could come. You get to have drinks for free since you're with me. We just have to dress up in costumes from storybooks."

"FUCKING HELL, CULLEN!!" He stood, the bar stool he'd been sitting on clattering to the ground hard behind him.

"Knock it _off, _McCarty!" My voice hit hard and dark. Busting up my shit was one of my pet peeves. Emmett was a damn bull in a china shop sometimes, and it I swear he did it just to bust my balls. He quickly picked up the stool and gently put it down, sitting down and sulking for a few moments. I returned to fixing coffee and I heard Emmett chuckle behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see what his deal was. He had a mouth full of food and a crooked grin.

"So which one of you is going as Snow White? Or are you skipping that shit and going as a giant vagina?"

I about spit coffee all over the sink at his comment. "I'm not sure there is a storybook with a big vagina in it," I replied, quickly regaining composure before he noticed anything was off.

"I can name some..."  
"I'm sure you could. Listen, just come with us tonight, okay? It wouldn't be a real party without THE EMMETT MCCARTY, after all." Stroking his ego wouldn't hurt; I knew what buttons to push to make the great one fall.

"Fine. I think I've got something around."

What the hell did _that_ mean? "I don't think I want to even ask."

"You know me, Cullen. Always got some kinky shit around, right?"

I think I just vomited in my mouth a little. "Yeah, I'm _definitely_ not asking."

I watched as Emmett drank the half a gallon of milk that he poured into the serving bowl before he put the bowl in the sink, giving a little half salute as he turned on his heel and headed for the stairs. I shook my head and was putting his bowl in the dishwasher when Jasper's bike came around the corner and into the drive. I heard the Duc shut down with a throttled purr.

"Hey, Jasper," I greeted as he entered the kitchen, looking especially beat down from his day as an orderly at the local psychiatric treatment facility. I handed him an empty cup, knowing that he had to fix his cup up all pussy-like. Fuck if I knew why anyone would mess with a good cup of coffee with sugar and milk and shit.

"How're things?" I asked.

"Nurse Ratched and I had a McMurphy today..." The nurses he works with are all named Nurse Ratched. Most would expect that because he worked in what was popularly known as a "loony bin", he wouldn't be able to discuss his job, but Jasper had worked out a system: he could talk about anything as long as he referenced characters from _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_. Code words like 'Ratched' for whatever nurse he had worked with that day, and 'McMurphy' for a patient who died, allowed him to vent without compromising anyone's confidentiality.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Jazz." First my creepy ass dream putting me in a bad mood, now Jasper and his dead patient. We were going to be a load of fun tonight.

"Yeah..." He scrubbed at his exhausted-looking face, letting out an aggravated grumble. "Let's just get out of here. I need to go do something fun to take my mind off of it all. Is Emmett coming?"

"Nope," I replied as I placed the cup of coffee in the sink. "He apparently already _'has something'_." Jasper looked at me, the look on his face an entertaining cross between "Oh my God, he's going to show up naked" and "Could I get away with running a psychological screening on the unlucky people who see him?". I had to head _that_ off at the pass. "And no, I think Ms. Hale would hang his testicles from the bar if he did that."

Jasper snorted as he poured his java into a travel mug and walked out to the driveway and towards the Volvo.

We drove down to Red Light Vintage Clothing, a great little hole-in-the-wall where I knew we'd be able to find something for the party and started to look around. Pictures and articles of clothing were packed to the rafters in the store. Before I knew it Jasper had jumped out from one of the racks dressed head-to-toe in a cowboy outfit, complete with hat, poncho, and chaps.

"Nice, Jasper. What storybook does that come from?"

"Um..."

"Yeah. Next!"

I watched him slink back into the rows of costumes and went to find one for myself. I kept repeating the word "storybook" as I slid hanger after hanger, stupid nylon costume after nylon costume, along the racks. Red Light had several cheap costumes, but they also had several costumes worthy of a Hollywood sound stage. Several of the local playhouses used them to outfit cast members. I had an ex who'd been a drama major, and she'd adored costume fitting days. All the dress-up, none of the spending her own cash. Too bad she'd had to be a total bitch and decided that one boyfriend just wasn't enough, and I was using "friend" as a loose term. Nothing like finding a freshmen _boy_ on his knees, face first in between the legs of your girlfriend of three years, the week of senior midterms.

I quickly shook off the memory and dove into the racks. I grabbed a few things and as I turned to go into the dressing room, I saw something that I knew I had to at least try on, if only for Jasper's sake.

"HEY, JASPER!" I bellowed out of the small dressing room. I adjusted my tie and tried to fix my hair as best I could.

"Where the hell are you?" I could hear him getting closer. I quickly grabbed the prop that came with the costume and jumped out into the hall.

_"Expelliarmus!!!"_ I yelled loudly as I jumped in front of the Texan. He jumped about fourteen feet in the air and fell straight on his ass as I pointed the plastic stick that the costumers had labeled a wand. I stood in front of my friend in an English boarding-school uniform: black slacks, gray sweater with yellow-and-black trim, a gold-and-black tie, and a white shirt. The long black robe with gold lining flew around me.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD!" Jasper wheezed, gasping in hysterics, as he pointed at me from the floor. "YOU'RE DOUCHEBAG PRETTY-BOY!"

I laughed at myself. This was an ongoing joke that happened when that stupid wizard movie showed up. I'd gotten ridiculed for MONTHS because I happened to look like one of the actors; I hated being compared to the guy, so of course, _Emmett_ had control of the remote the night the movie was on TV, and it was all he could do to keep a straight face. He kept pointing to the screen and laughing hysterically. Asshole.

I though Jasper was going to pee himself. His face was tomato-red from laughter.

Before the teasing started to get out of hand, I quickly knelt down and grasped Jasper's hand.

"You only get one," I said, as I helped him up and turned to change. "You showed up, so you get the prize of laughing your ass off at my expense, for free."

"Wait, Wait! You're not going to wear that, are you?!"  
"HELL NO! Emmett just forgot about that stupid movie last week... Last thing I need is him giving me shit 'til St. Patrick's Day!"

Jasper just stood there and continued laughing as I walked back to the dressing room and tried on the other costume that I'd picked out for real. It was from a favorite movie of mine that I'd loved since I was a kid. Ever since I'd found out Andre the Giant was in it, I'd secretly loved _The Princess Bride._ Mentioning my love for it was a fine panty-dropper: who knew that girls would practically trip over themselves to hear a guy whisper "As you wish"? I'd found a pair of pirate boots, black pants, black pirate shirt, a mask, and a sword while perusing the racks. I had my outfit. The Dread Pirate Roberts I would be.

I gathered up my costume pick and the discarded "magic fangirl special" and walked up to the counter. Jasper had picked out this intense Mad Hatter costume and was looking over the selection of vintage cuff links and jewelry at the counter.

"Is this your purchase, sir?"

"Yeah, um, just this one." I reached over and picked up the black pants to show the shopgirl that this was the costume I wanted, then went back over to the case that Jasper was hunched over. He had found a pair of vintage belt buckles that I swore I could hear him talking to himself over. I was just about to pack it in when I spotted a set of circular cuff links that were made from gold Chicago Transit Authority tokens.

"Anything else, sir?" I quickly picked up the token cuff links and checked out. I was starved, and we still had a lot to do. Emmett had helped me set up the DJ equipment the other night and now I needed to get food, give my playlists one last look through, and get out to the club tonight.

We got home in what felt like record time and retreated into our own respective rooms to prepare for the night. As I hung up the black garment bag against the closet door I heard the boots thud around inside. I quickly stripped and headed for the shower. Within a few moments I'd finished; I padded out to my bedroom and threw on my lucky DJ-gig boxers, ran a hand through my damp hair and went over to the closet door.

I squared myself off with the bag. I felt like it was a stand-off at the E.C. Corral. I was actually excited to get into the costume and see what everyone else was dressed in. I opened the bag and reached in to pull out the pirate pants. That's when I realized what had happened: my worst nightmare. No, _worse_ then my worst nightmare. This is what my nightmares _have_ nightmares about.

"No! NO! NOOOO!!!!!!" I fell to my knees and felt like weeping. This was wrong, SO very, very _wrong._

Inside the bag, mocking me, was the teenage-wizard outfit.

I was so epically _fucked_.

Emmett McCarty was having a fucking _stellar_ day, and he didn't even know it yet.

I quickly pulled myself up and rubbed my face. I slammed the closet door shut in anger and threw on a pair of jeans and a black tee-shirt, furious at the turn of events. I wanted to blame everything and anything. Jasper for being so fucking interested in a cheap tin belt buckle and being a fucking chatterbox the entire fucking time; the fucking shop girl for being so fucking stupid. But no: after all, I was the one who blindly just grabbed a pair of pants. I didn't check the bag before I left; I just _assumed_ that the shoes hitting the closet door were boots, not dress shoes.

Then a thought struck. I could fix it, I knew I could. I just needed to go back to the costume shop and exchange the wizard fuckwittery for the pirate costume. So it was cutting it a little close, time-wise; I could change at the bar. I threw on my shoes, not even bothering to tie them, zipped up the garment bag, and ran down to the Volvo, chucking the bag into the back seat. I almost hit Jasper's bike when I tore out down the street towards the costume shop. How I got to the shop without the town's police officers forming a parade behind me, I will never know. I raced up to the front door of the shop only to find it locked.

"FUCK!" I yelled at the door. "FUCKING BASTARD!" I said, before launching into the kind of grand-mal hissyfit that would have made any six-year-old proud. I was livid, and I was also quite scared for my job. I knew that Ms. Hale would be angry that I didn't follow the rules, even though I _hated_ not following the rules. She would complain to Yorkie and it would be my ass in the hot seat. I wouldn't be Yorkie's golden boy. He wouldn't give me the choice gigs. FUCK, this was so fucking unfair.

I tore open the driver side door to my precious Volvo, quietly asking it for forgivingness as if it wasn't an inanimate object. I opened reached under my seat and into the seat itself and pulled out a small white box with gold lettering that was no bigger then a deck of cards. My secret. My vice.

I quickly shut the car door and leaned against it before opening the small flap at one end of the box. Inside were a brushed silver lighter and my cigarettes. I didn't smoke often. But when I did, I just needed to be alone and let it all out. It was the one thing I had that no one else really knew about. It calmed my already fried nerves from my family and lifestyle, and it was my secret. Mine. I didn't tell anyone I did this, and honestly it wasn't any of their damn business.

My foray into my under-the-table addiction began in college. During finals, I was so stressed out that I thought I was going to crack, so one drunken night, one of Emmett's frat brothers threw me a pack of Marlboro Lights-- and the rest was history. After a stern talking-to from a very angry Emmett one night after I first got picked up at as a DJ at KNND, I took my habit underground and laid down some rules for myself. There _had_ to be rules enabled, so I could get away with smelling like an ashtray around Mr. McCarty. Some bad memories just never fade away, and those memories that are McCarty's, are McCarty's only to tell.

I stewed outside my car for what felt like an hour, talking myself down, letting the cold December air carry away most of the cigarette. That was part of my rules: Never at home, never in the Volvo. At work, yes, but only one cigarette, and only if I had at least an hour to let the clingy smell of the smoke die down, if not dissipate completely. Finally I would have at least a change of shirt in the back of the Volvo in case the wind shifted or something like that. Never could be too careful.

I only took a drag twice; the rest of the cigarette burnt itself to the filter. I rolled the little paper tube in my fingers and stared at it like it was holding the answer to life, the universe, and everything; as if it was going to lead me to the Grail and salvation would be mine.

Who the fuck was I kidding? It was just a lit cigarette. I flicked it into the gutter and watched as the melted snow seeped into the paper and plastic fibers that made up the filter. The light was snuffed out, and suddenly I felt very akin t\o that little piece of trash.

It was going to be a long night. I didn't know what to do and I was seriously pissed off, and quite afraid that I was going to lose a good job.

What a fucking _great_ way to start a new year.


	3. Purple Fear and Brown Cascade

Purple Fear and Brown Cascade

It was so fucking loud in there, I couldn't hear myself think. Whoever was manning the DJ booth was royally fucking up my tables, and I was going to kill them…as soon as I could get to them, at least. The bar was practically busting at the seams, and I kept getting blocked by sweaty bodies. I was starting to get claustrophobic. As I finally made it to the first steps that led up to the stage, I felt a cold hand clamp down onto my wrist.

_Oh shit._

"Where do you think you are going?" Rose yelled at me. She had spun me around with an inhuman strength to face her. She was dressed as the witch Maleficent from _Sleeping Beauty_.

I almost didn't recognize her. Her blonde locks were hidden from view inside her headpiece, her makeup dark and bold. Her bright blue eyes were on fire as she pulled me up the steps to the stage. She had a microphone in her hand, and the entire bar's attention was turned to us. My flight instincts kicked in hard, and I almost pulled my arm out of its socket trying to wrench it free.

"Did I not say that this was a costume party?" Her voice, dark and slightly crazed, echoed off the walls. The crowd was shocked into complete silence, and I could hear my heart beating a mile a minute. "Did the invitations not say 'No admittance without a costume'?" She was fully enraged, and I feared for my life.

Rose shoved me violently into a chair on the stage. So hard, in fact, that the chair rocked back and slammed onto the stage floor. The wind was knocked out of me, and all I could see were the stage lights, bright and blinding. Air finally filled my lungs, and I saw Rose's horned head peer over me. I wanted to run. But the way I had fallen it was going to take some effort. I could just hear the audience laughing and murmuring.

I couldn't see her, maybe that was for the best. "Mr. Cullen! If you can't follow my rules in my club," Rose started, her voice smooth as silk as she played to the audience, "perhaps I shall teach you some manners!"

Rose stood between my legs and the legs of the hard wooden chair. She leaned over, making damn sure that I saw her. Hot, bright white light sparkled against cold steel; a blade. It reflected light all over the place, including my eyes, blinding me once again.

Before I knew it, I felt two strong pairs of hands came seemingly out of nowhere, gripping my arms and holding me down in the upturned chair. I struggled hard against the hands, but they just seemed to get tighter. Rose leaned back a bit, and I felt hands taking hold of my belt. I felt the leather of the belt rip against the skin of my back as it was torn out of the belt loops. Sucking in air as the burn subsided I could hear the audience catcall and holler. I felt wind violently pass my face as Rose swung my belt around, and I could hear it hit a wall over my head. I didn't know what she had in mind, but I sure as hell was done playing. I started to scream only to have a hand clamped over my mouth, and another hand press its body weight onto my chest. I don't know who was on the stage with us, but there had to be a lot of people for as many hands were touching me right now. It was so hard to breathe.

I felt Rose's hands down by my pants and heard the sound of cloth ripping. Cool air touched my boxer-clad leg and made me jump, but that only caused the unfamiliar hands to tighten more.

I started to whimper in fear as I realized that Rose was touching my dick. This was turning into a _really_ fucked up version of _Misery_. I wanted out of this shit, _now_!

I knew I was sweating from the lights and the sweat was getting into my eyes and stinging. I could feel my face turning beet red from my screaming and the hot lights. But no one could make out what I was saying because of the hand still over my mouth and I was starting to get dizzy from oxygen deprivation. I tried to block out whatever Rose was doing. Suddenly I felt cold steel touching me.

Before I knew it, Rose lunged on top of me, and I felt a dull and slightly painful throbbing in my groin. She quickly grunted, and the pain increased to a thousand times the intensity. All I could feel was pain, white hot and searing. I wanted to vomit. I retched against the hand over my mouth a few times and all I could feel, breathe, taste, smell, and see was pain.

I started to shake uncontrollably. I felt something hot fall into my ears, and realized it was my own tears, falling from my eyes. Sobs were ripping from my chest. I couldn't help it; I was so scared. I was going to die and I knew it.

I heard pounding just above my head on the wall at the back of the stage. Rose was back there hammering something. The hammer falls made me shake more through my pain.

When she was finished she took a step back so the audience could see her handiwork. A roar of approval erupted from crowd and I looked to see what they were approving of just before the blackness took me over.

My manhood. Nailed to the wall.

--

My body shook violently, ripping me out of the daymare my musings had morphed into. My hands instinctively went to my crotch to make sure I was intact. I was safe. Whole. And I was still in my Volvo, parked in front of the costume shop.

I let out the breath I was holding. It came out slow and shaky.

_Fuck me._

I blinked hard and straightened up in my seat, put on my seatbelt, and drove home to get ready.

--

The house was still relatively quiet when I pulled back in, and I was able to get back into my room without running into either of my roommates. I threw the black garment bag into the bottom of my closet and flipped it off, which did make me feel just a little bit better. _Fucking stupid piece of shit. _

I paced a bit in my room before deciding that I would just have to man up and face the music. So I didn't have a costume. So what? Fuck it. I'd wear what I wear for every gig: white wife-beater, black tee-shirt, and beat up jeans I wore so often that the back pocket bore a wallet-shaped indentation. _It_ _was going to have to do_, I thought as I shut my door and headed down to the kitchen.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! How I wonder what you're at." I spun in my tracks and saw Jasper in full Mad Hatter regalia. He did a little pirouette to show off. "That's very nice," I said, mystified but amused.

Jasper rounded back to look at me and his expression changed from goofy glee to a more serious _What the fuck?_ "Where the hell is your costume, Ed?"

"Oh, I'm gonna put it on at the club," I lied through my teeth, hoping it was convincing enough.

After what felt like hours, Jasper replied, "Good deal." Either I was a good liar, or Jasper was a gullible fuck.

Then the unbelievable happened. Stomping down the hall was an abominable snowman with cat ears, a fluffy tail, and the face of Emmett "I-Eat-Pussy-For-Lunch" McCarty. Jasper and I stopped dead in our tracks, staring as he joined us in the kitchen.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" Emmett demanded, gesturing to me with a spray-painted gold stick with what looked like a ball of duct tape stuck onto one end.

"My costume didn't fit," I said. _YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKING IDIOT! _I quickly realized my gaffe and tried to cover it up. "Besides, I'm working, so I figure I can get away with not wearing one." I gave Jasper a sidelong glance, and I knew I had been caught. Hopefully he cared enough about not damning me to a horrible end to keep his mouth shut.

"Motherfucker, you better sleep with your eyes open the next few weeks," Emmett threatened, but it was hard to take him seriously when he was clad in footie pajamas and red Chuck Taylors. It was truly a sight. In some ways it distracted me from the upcoming removal of my testicles at the hands of Rosalie Hale. I was going to miss my balls. We'd had so many good times together...

Jasper's voice broke me out of my wistful ruminations on my soon-to-be-departed manhood; I shivered at the horrific memory. "More to the point, what are you wearing?" The smile was getting so big on Jasper's face, I could have sworn he was the Cheshire Cat, not the Mad Hatter. "What are those…footie pajamas? No, wait, let me guess. The dormouse. You wanted to match me. Awwwww…I always knew we'd end up dating eventually."

"Shut the fuck up, Whitlock. I'm Max."

_What?_ Like fucking Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dumber, Jasper and I gave him matching blank looks.

"Max. From _Where the Wild Things Are_."

_Fuck me. Emmett could _read_? Where the fuck did he get this shit from?_

"Jesus, close your mouths. You're drawing flies. And catch up on the classics," he retorted.

"What...Why do you have that?" I stood there, arms folded, thrown for a loop by this new, literate Emmett. Jasper, Cheshire-Cat grin still intact, was taking in the white beast before us, making sure he memorized this vision of Emmett for the next time we needed revenge fodder.

"It's left over from college. What the fuck does it matter? You wanted a costume, I have a costume," he said, shoving the gold "scepter" into my face.

"It's got a butt flap!" Jasper exulted joyfully from behind Emmett, pointing to the tail on the ass end of the costume.

"Seriously? You're wearing a fifty-gallon top hat and you're laughing at my butt flap?"

"All right, all right," Jasper soothed, throwing his hands up to back Emmett down.

"Are we getting out of here or what? Let's get this over with," Emmett groused as he slapped on a paper Burger King crown. Jasper and I came undone with laughter, barely able to hear Emmett's voice telling

us to "_keep laughing, motherfuckers",_ as he made it down to my car.

Jasper had tears streaming down his face. "Oh, Ed! Between that and your ghetto-fabulous excuse for a costume---"

"Shut your FACE, Whitlock!" I tackled Jasper, wrenching his arm behind his back until he gasped out, "Uncle! You smell like roses! UNCLE!" He was still laughing despite his position. If Emmett heard any of this, I would be wearing that stupid fucking wizard costume all night, even if Emmett had to knock my ass out and dress me himself to make it happen. _Fuck that_.

"The shop screwed up," I muttered, pulling myself off Jasper and helping him to his feet.

"What do you mean?"

"They didn't pack the right costume. I got sent home with the fucking wizard costume."

"NO!" Jasper's face fell in shock. He tried to hide it, but it was too fucking late: the left side of his mouth drew long.

"Son of a bitch. If you tell McCarty, I will destroy you," I said, my teeth clenched so hard I thought they were going to crack. All I could think about was Halloween the year that stupid movie came out, and Emmett thought it would be funny to Photoshop my head on the actor's body that played the magician. Then he sent it to my work, where Yorkie thought it was a riot and sent it around the station. I was so livid. I think it made it to the station's MySpace page with the headline "WE KIDNAPPED A WIZARD," so I wasn't about to give Mr. McCarty the upper hand once again.

I pointed out the door and we joined Emmett, who was yanking on the locked passenger side of the Volvo. "Easy, cocksucker, that's my car! You want to go yank on something, go yank on your _own_ shit, in your _own_ room," I yelled at the yeti, unlocking the doors and getting inside. Jasper chuckled as he sat behind me, and we were soon on the road.

--

We arrived at the bar early; there were only a few bar workers walking around setting up things. The bar looked nothing like my dream. _Thank God._

The stage was huge, the pricey speakers camouflaged by the black fabric covering the back wall, matching the curtains that were on either end of the stage. The table my rig was set up on was lined with long silver fringe that hid all the crates and bags under the table. A large disco ball was over my head, and signs proclaiming "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" were all over the place.

I almost shit a brick when I hopped up on the stage and saw that someone had put generous amounts of glitter everywhere on the table with my equipment. And I do mean every-fucking-where. Well, it wouldn't be the first time a DJ had finished a gig with glitter falling out of every crevice. I brushed off what I could and ended up just getting myself covered in silver sparkles. _Fuck._ Now I looked like Studio 54 had vomited all over me. _Wonderful._ I grumbled curse words until I felt a touch better. I pulled out my MacBook and the four iPods I had secured for the gig and set them up.

From somewhere in the fog, I heard Emmett bellow if he could have a cupcake. I would've told him to take six, which would maybe start to make up for the fact that I would now sparkle in sunlight. Fuck who was I kidding? That douche bag would make fun of his own mother. _Fucking sparkles._ I think some of them were in the decks and acting like dust, which would make things run wonky. _Fuck._

I was under the table trying to get wires hooked up correctly when I heard someone clear their throat. I looked behind me and saw a pair of shoes with black and white spots and tiny pink unicorns on them. _What the fuck now?_

"Mr. Cullen?" I swallowed hard, breaking into a cold sweat as my balls frantically tried to crawl up into my stomach. _They_ knew what was coming. _Goodbye, my friends. I'll miss you. _I scooted out from under the table only to crack my skull on its underside as I got up. "Ahh! FUCK!" I squinted and rubbed my head. I could feel the lump starting already. I opened one eye and saw Rose, not dressed as Maleficent, but as…what? Goldie-sex-locks? Bo-Fuck-Me-Peep? Her blond hair was pulled back into pigtails, her yellow dress was scandalously short, and Emmett's dick was certainly standing at full attention wherever he was.

"Mr. Cullen, did you not read the invitation I handed to you?"

"Yes, Miss Hale, I did. I'm sorry. I had a costume, but there was a mix-up."

"That's all well and good, but if you don't find a costume to wear before the club opens up, I'm not paying your fee, and I will call Mr. Yorkie."

_Fuck me sideways. Where the hell was I going to find a fucking costume?!_ I stood up straighter and clenched my teeth, just nodding to her, and she turned on her heel and marched off to spread fear and loathing elsewhere. I scrolled through my music choices and just put on some instrumental pieces that I had been working on to keep the crowd of workers occupied as I tried to fucking become Martha-Fucking-Stewart and make a costume out of thin air.

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything from the day lying on my chest. It felt like Emmett had placed one of his stupid kettle bells from his gym on my chest, pushing all the air out of my lungs. I shoved the same persistent as fuck, chunk of hair out of my face. It was going to cause me blindness with the vicinity it was to my eye all the damn time. I think I need to get my fucking hair cut. I was so fucking angry. My internal cursing and mental focus was all out of control.

I needed to calm down. Refocus. I looked around at my set up and deemed it necessary for a break. I quickly and quietly walked off the stage in the search for aid.

I patted myself down as I looked for my keys, running headlong into a gigantic wool wall that was hotter than hell and I instantly flashed back to my nightmare, like the world's most pathetic PTSD sufferer, and my limbs flailed every which way. "GET OFF ME. NO! DON'T CUT ME!!"

"Um, dude, you know this is a club and not cell block D, right?"

I looked up and saw Jake, the bar back, who was dressed up like a sheep. _Hope you got paid extra for that, buddy. _

"Sorry, ignore me. I just need to go somewhere and think for a bit."

"What's wrong, dude?" I sighed, wondering if I really wanted to get on the couch with Jake as my shrink. _Fuck it_.

"Rose is all up in my face about the stupid costume, or in my case, the lack thereof. I had a costume, but there was an issue."

"Wait, wait — I let you in without a costume?" His voice laced with a tone of fear. I could totally relate.

"Well, yes."

"DAMN IT! Are you trying to get me fired?" His mitten clad hands clamped onto my arms and I swear I broke out into a cold sweat.

"Sorry, man, I need to figure out how to fix this," I said, pushing past him. I couldn't take it. I just needed to get away. Away from the bar, away from the costume problem, and away from Emmett, Jasper, Jake, and especially Rose, so I could think.

I had parked the Volvo in the side alley so that it would be easier to pack up my gear and go home after the party. At least that was what I kept telling myself. Truth be told, it also insured easy access to my cigs. I liked to think that I had a serious amount of control with my habit, but there were worse days than others, today being a fine example. I quickly stripped off my black tee-shirt and threw it into the car. It wasn't as cold as it looked outside, and I wouldn't be out here long.

I pulled out my cigarettes and stood in between the car and the frozen brick wall. The sound of a truck with a muffler problem startled me; it sounded like it didn't have one at all. I switched my cigarette to the other hand and watched as a huge kid who must have been from the reservation unfolded from the passenger side. The driver gracefully slid out and shut the door. Her dark brown hair cascaded down her back, She had this light tan dress clung to her every curve. She had a wide, dark brown belt that hung low and hugged her hips. I completely blanked watching her lithe body climb and stretch over the hatch of the truck. Everything inside that club was miniscule now, compared to the sight in front of me. The brunette was leaning so far into the truck bed I thought she was going to topple over. Watching her had instantly made the world around me go away. It didn't matter if Rose got me fired, as long as I got to meet the princess with brown hair…

* * *

Many thanks to those of you still reading. I know it took me too long to update. Thanks to Sarah, Stacey, and Shannon for checking and double checking. Those on UU -- I heart you hard.

Thanks Again.


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